


the last minutes of the countdown

by etoilette



Series: Kinktober 2020 [24]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilette/pseuds/etoilette
Summary: Day #24 of Kinktober: MasturbationEven though no conversation sounds between the two of them, there's something comforting about this meaningless call with Akira. The idea that there's someone in this wild entanglement of a city who's here for Akechi right now, who cared enough for Akechi to call for no reason, is an unwelcome warmth in his chest.As if to chase away the softness, Akechi puts a hand on himself, hard, making sure his nails scrape against his flesh.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Kinktober 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949695
Comments: 1
Kudos: 112





	the last minutes of the countdown

The tinny screeching that blares out in the quiet of Akechi's room is an unfamiliar one. The ringtone he set for Shido is the Darth Vader theme from the _Star Wars_ franchise, and his agent's is an inoffensive Classical stinger, in order to preserve the refined image of the Detective Prince.

Other than those two, almost no one ever calls Akechi, sadly enough. It even took him a second to realize that the rhythmic beeping is his phone and not a bomb.

Akira's name lights up from the screen, and Akechi pulls a face. What could he possibly want? It's not as if Akechi messed up the last time they were in the Metaverse, and when Akechi invited him out to Penguin Sniper the other day, he made it clear that he wouldn't be available for any recreation until after November.

After November, when Akira would be...

He shakes his head and lets the call go to voicemail. For a blessed second, silence reigns in the bedroom but the infernal beeping starts once more.

_Kurusu Akira_ , his phone taunts at him.

Judging by his personality, he would never give up. When Akira isn't motivated by some self-serving ideal of justice, his sole interest seems to be in pestering Akechi, pressing buttons that not even Akechi knew he had. He has all the time in the world to call over and over again until the battery in Akechi's phone dies. He swipes his phone and accepts the call.

"Akechi speaking."

"Ah, Akechi? Are you busy?" Akira's carefree voice, tinny and small, sounds into Akechi's ear.

What would he do if Akechi said yes? Apologize? Demand that he drop whatever he was doing so that the two of them could talk about whatever nonsense Akira's interested in discussing?

"No," Akechi admits, sitting down on his bed. "I was just finishing up some of my schoolwork. Is something the matter?"

"Well, no," Akira says, and he even has the gall to laugh. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

It feels like a cold hand has a grip around his heart and Akechi takes a steadying breath. When he forces out a laugh, it sounds just an octave too high. "How sentimental. Don't you have anyone else to call when you're feeling lonely?"

"I do. But it's different when it's you."

_I know that feeling_.

"Hm, not sure if I know what you mean," Akechi says cheerily.

"Don't you?"

There's a certain aggression in Akira's tone that Akechi's heard a million times before from across the pool table in Penguin Sniper, or next to him in the Metaverse. Just earlier that week, Akira used that exact same challenging and forceful voice in Mementos, when he had the gall to taunt Akechi during their duel, as if he _wanted_ the two of them to rip each other apart, no holds barred. Akira never fails to get Akechi's heart pumping and blood working, like a shot of adrenaline straight into his chest.

The memory of that fight still haunts him. Of how mentally exhausted he had been from sending kougaon after kougaon Akira's way, and yet the excitement of _finally_ being able to rip that unflappable poker face off of his opponent's face had been enough to push his mind into casting just one more spell. Of how his body ached from sleepless nights and hard missions, but every glancing blow Akira managed to land with his knife or Persona only invigorated him, until the pain of his screaming muscles faded away into noise in the back of his mind.

Every moment he has spent with Akira has been like a dream. It's everything he has ever wanted since he was a child, and he can't wait until he tears it all down.

Before he even realizes it, he's pushing his pants down, pulling out his dick as it starts to harden at the thought of the look that would be on Akira's face when he realizes that the person he's trusted with his life was going to be the one snatching it away, like a dragon hoarding its treasure.

"Akechi?" Akira asks, and Akechi realizes that he had been silent for a second too long.

"Ah, I apologize. What were you saying?"

"...It's nothing. Nothing important. Anyway, what were you doing before I called? I feel like it's been too long since we last saw each other."

To Akechi's recollection, the last time they saw each other in person was the week previous, when the two of them were at Jazz Jin. For Akechi, that was the last night he ever intended to see Akira until Sae's Casino. It's a frustratingly Kurusu Akira move to ruin every single one of Akechi's plans or expectations.

Well, there's one coming up that Akira will probably never see coming, so Akechi has that at least.

"I agree," he says before Akira can prompt him again. "I've been quite busy with my work and school. I'm afraid that my tenure with the Phantom Thieves has cut into much of my free time, so I need to take any minute I have for my affairs."

"Sorry about that."

"It's not your fault. I also wish to find the true perpetrator behind the mental shutdowns."

Akira doesn't say anything to that. His breathing echoes in Akechi's ear. It's soft and even, and he doesn't hear anything else, as if his whole world has been narrowed down to the sounds of Akira's existence. There's no scratching of pen on paper. No rustling of clothes to show that he's moving around.

Even though no conversation sounds between the two of them, there's something comforting about this meaningless call with Akira. The idea that there's someone in this wild entanglement of a city who's here for Akechi right now, who cared enough for Akechi to call for no reason, is an unwelcome warmth in his chest.

As if to chase away the softness, Akechi puts a hand on himself, hard, making sure his nails scrape against his flesh. There is no hesitation in the way he starts to move his fist, hard and rough, rubbing himself raw without any lubrication to aid in the friction. He bites back a hiss, sure that Akira would comment on it if he hears anything, but he must have made some sort of sound anyway because Akira asks, "What are you doing?"

"Just some homework," Akechi lies. He can imagine the curiosity in Akira's face, open and innocent, as if Akira is nothing more than a hapless high schooler.

He remembers when he took Akira to the aquarium, when Akira asked him over and over again about this fish and that crustacean. His eyes had been so wide, the dim light of the aquarium dancing in the brown of his gaze, turning them into stardust. He had been so earnest, inquisitive in a way that reminded Akechi of a child, hanging onto Akechi's every word as if Akechi was some sort of marine biologist instead of a wannabe know-it-all.

"You're so smart," Akira had said, completely genuine. "You know so much about everything."

"I was just reading off the plaques or my phone," Akechi had replied honestly.

The smile on Akira's face had been one foreign to Akechi, who had prided himself until that moment on recognizing every one of his rival's expressions and emotions. "It's different hearing it from you somehow," he had said.

It had been ridiculous. Silly and ludicrously sentimental, as if hearing information regurgitated from Akechi's mouth is any different from simply reading off of the plaques himself.

And yet the memory of their time together, the mental image of Akira's awe, makes the penis in Akechi's hand harden even against the pain of his grip.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice shaking slightly with the effort of trying to remain as calm and unaffected as possible.

"Morgana's taking a walk around the block so I'm alone. Just doing some homework and making some infiltration tools. It would be nice to learn how to make them without Morgana breathing down my neck, ha ha."

He's not having an interesting night, as expected. But then again, if Akira was off traipsing around Shibuya with one of his friends or myriad of confidants, then he wouldn't have time to call Akechi. Akira's still talking — some inane story about how his cat yelled at him for making a careless mistake on his algebra homework the other day — but Akechi closes his eyes and tunes him out, focusing on the cadence of his words. He doesn't stop moving his hand, stroking his shaft slowly and with increasing pressure as he fills up to his full size.

When Akechi first saw Joker, he thought that his real-life identity must be as wild and devious as his Metaverse persona. Just like Akechi himself, though, Akira wears his different masks skillfully, deceiving everyone like the most masterful of con artists. There's nothing hard about Kurusu Akira, who is so soft-spoken and bookish, with that hunched posture and quiet voice, that Akechi could have walked by him a million times in the past and not even spared him a second look.

It's infuriating that this boy, his unfortunate rival, is someone who looks so plain next to him that his own image is dragged down by association. If Akechi hadn't seen the powerful conviction behind Akira's mask that day in the television studio, he doesn't think he would have ever seen through it, let alone discovered his identity as the leader of the Phantom Thieves.

Akira's story continues, soothing against his ear, and Akechi leans against the wall as he lets the undeserving soft wash over his senses. It's not often that he touches himself. Only ever on nights when his mind and memories refuse to leave him enough for sleep.

He exhales sharply at the stinging sensation of his hand as he continues to move it up and down the shaft, the white heat travelling up from his core. He massages his glans with the flat of his thumb, and stifles a moan at the pleasure. This night is different from the cold and mechanical ones of Akechi's past, when he robotically strokes himself to completion. so he can knock himself out into a dreamless slumber With Akira in his ear, he takes his time, savouring the companionship, even if his partner doesn't realize what he's doing.

He wonders how Akira would be in bed. Maybe he would be soft and loving, praising his partner's body and reactions with soft words and feather-light touches. The same voice that calls Akechi amazing and admirable over their games, complimenting him on how he looks in bed. It feels like his heart is going to pump out of his chest, and the gentle octave of Akira praising Morgana, or whatever it is he's talking about, only adds to the fantasy.

Or maybe Akira would put on the mask of Joker during sex? He does seem like the type who would secretly be domineering, considering the way he treats Shadows in battle. Would he order Akechi around in bed with that deep commanding voice? Would he tell Akechi to turn over and prepare himself with the same tone of voice he uses to make calls in battle?

"Do you have any worries for tomorrow's heist?" Akechi interrupts.

Akira had been in the middle of some story about his fishing escapades, but he stops when Akechi cuts in.

"Are you concerned about something?" Akira asks, and — yes, already, it's here. He can hear Joker in that voice, even now. The silk of earlier has been lifted away to reveal steel. Even through the poor quality of the cellphone speakers, the sound of Akira going through his bag is audible. He must be pulling out that little notebook of his, prepared to jot down concerns to brainstorm through them. As studious as ever. "I have a plan in place but I'm curious as to what ideas you have, ace detective."

The playful nickname only makes Akechi's dick harder, straining against the cage of his fingers. He can imagine Akira calling him that, in this very tone, if the two of them were ever able to do this together. The Akira in his imagination teases Akechi's dick, keeping him right on the edge of orgasm, poking and prodding at Akechi's slit with his tongue.

_Is that all you have, ace detective?_ he might say. _Is this all you can do?_

Akechi bites his fist before the groan could escape and pumps faster, feeling the pre-cum leak down onto his fingers, drenching his skin and his sheets. He's never felt this good before at his own hand, and he presses his sweaty cheek even harder against the phone, as if begging Akira to speak more. He doesn't know if Akira can hear the staccato rhythm of his panting, or if the squelching of his fist against his dick is so loud that even his shitty phone can pick it up.

"Just tell me what you have so far," Akechi says. His voice is wrecked — airy and breathless — and he scrambles for an excuse. "I'm just nervous. This is my first time after all."

For a moment, Akira doesn't say anything. He thinks he hears Akira swallow, but he can't be sure. Then, slowly, Akira says, "Well, the procedure is pretty simple."

Akechi shuts off his brain and allows Akira's words to fade into white noise. Akira's — Joker's — voice is firm, with no hint of hesitation, as he outlines the method of manifesting the Treasure, of escaping the Palace. He remembers every detail from when the cat explained it, but he doesn't mind if Akira thinks of him as someone who's just excessively anxious or forgetful.

_Get on your back and spread your legs. Prep yourself. Touch yourself and let me see._

He can imagine Joker talking to him in the exact way he's speaking now, all harsh syllables and cold contempt. It's like Akira and Joker are two completely different people, and Akechi knows that he definitely can't talk, if Akira ever finds out about who he is.

Akechi can't regulate his breathing anymore. It comes out in harsh pants and faint whines, and he's sure that no matter how shitty Akira's phone is or how engrossed he is in his explanation, he's bound to notice. With his cheek and his shoulder, he holds his phone in place so that he can bite his fist, sinking his teeth so deep into his knuckles that the pain threatens to wake him up from this nightmare.

He moves his other hand faster, scraping the dull edge of his nail against the vein on the underside as he pumps his cock. Akira's _still_ talking, and Akechi wonders how those luscious lips and clever tongue would feel like against the weight of his cock. If Akira's as skilled with his mouth as he is with his hands. He's talking about calling cards and cognition, and it's distinctly unsexy, but under the influence of the thick smog of lust in Akechi's brain, Metaverse logic is suddenly the hottest thing he's ever heard in his life.

The Akira in his imagination takes the entirety of Akira's dick, pushing it ever deeper into his throat and swallowing around him. His clever fingers play with Akechi's balls, fondling and teasing, with the mischievous affection that he would no doubt shower his partner with. With only one hand, Akechi can't jerk himself off and play with his balls at the same time like in his fantasy, but he's always been flexible.

He places his hand gently at the base of his cock, stroking as much of the heated shaft as he can with his index finger while his other ones tap a rhythm against his testicles. It's not fantastic, and his hand aches almost immediately, but when paired with the mental image of _Akira_ doing this to him, Akechi can't stop his toes from curling, his back from arching, his teeth from sinking into his knuckles.

It's amazing. It's heaven. He's never felt this way before in his life and he never will again.

When he hears the words "take it" from Akira's deep voice, he's pushed over the edge, shuddering on the bed and hitting the back of his head against the wall. His legs spasm and he bends his knees, spreading his thighs, cumming in spurts so violent that he can feel it splash against his shirt. He bites down on his hand until he draws blood, until the only sounds that can possibly escape him are his breathing.

His climax is so intense that for a second, there's nothing but the sound of buzzing in his ear. The world clears in slow increments, the white fading from the vision along with the pounding in his skull. He can't be sure if he accidentally whined or moaned or called out Akira's name, but any mortification or anxiety about that is washed away with the last remnants of his orgasm.

His brain is nothing but a mess of white. When he looks down at his hand through heavy-lidded eyes, he's bit clean through, and as if revived by physical confirmation of the injury, he feels the sharp sting lance through his arm. Blood drips down his knuckles, adding to the mess on the bed, and he can taste a bit of the residual rust on his tongue.

"...should have a change of heart. That's basically how it'll go tomorrow too, if everything works out." Akira is still saying in his ear. It doesn't sound like he heard anything at all and Akechi breathes out a silent sigh of relief.

"That sounds wondrous," Akechi says hoarsely. He clears his throat and repeats, "That sounds wondrous. I'm glad to hear that you have a game plan."

Akira laughs. "Well, we _have_ done this five times now."

Akechi chuckles agreeably. "I suppose I'll have to follow the lead tomorrow, senpai."

He expected Akira to laugh at that or make a joke about how Akechi's the one who's the senpai, but he hears nothing except uneven breathing.

"Akira, are you alright?"

"Hm? Ah. Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just starting to get a little anxious, I guess."

Akechi frowns. The only thing that Akira should be worried about is what would happen to the Phantom Thieves after Sae's Treasure is taken. In his head, there won't even _be_ a Phantom Thieves after tomorrow, after all. Should he say something? But there's little point in comforting him. The Akechi Goro that Akira knows — so blind in his pursuit of justice that he has little interest in anything other than the truth — would probably stay silent.

"There's nothing to worry about with you as our fearless leader, Joker," Akechi says instead, making sure his tone is as bracing as possible. "Let's talk more after we finish taking Sae-san's Treasure. Goodnight, Akira."

"Goodnight, Akechi," Akira replies, and his voice is so sweet and fond that Akechi has half a mind to keep him on the line. To ask him to talk until the sun comes up, to make up for the loss that's sure to come.

He hangs up before he could make a fool of himself. He carelessly tosses the phone to the side and lies down on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He holds Akira's voice in his head and hopes that no matter what happens on the night of November 20th, he'll never forget the way that Akira spoke to him as a friend.

**Author's Note:**

> I realized only while editing that since Futaba has Akechi's phone bugged, poor girl had to listen to him panting into Akira's ear for like ten minutes straight haha.


End file.
